


Forgetting Is A Harder Fight

by LarryUniverse



Series: Drabbles/One-Shots [1]
Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Dancer!Louis, Drabble, M/M, Married!Louis, Sad Ending, married!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarryUniverse/pseuds/LarryUniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has a lot of other things to worry about than his six year old girls' dance class recital. There's no decorations up for Christmas, and it doesn't help that his nuisance of a husband is following him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgetting Is A Harder Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, so this is pretty much my first real fast paced one shot that I did in like an hour aha. I did not have a clue what I was doing, so I vomited random things on a word document and you get the left overs. 
> 
> Doing this for the Holiday Cheer Fic Exchange by larryfanfiction!
> 
> The prompts of;  
>  **Universe:** Dancer.  
>  **Story Type:** Angst  
>  **Wintry Element:** Decorating.
> 
> Title is from 'Little Do You Know' by Alex and Sierra.

He sighs when he sees the gaggle of little girls before him, half of them still without their make-up done. It’s half an hour before the curtain rises and Louis thinks they’re not going to make it. He shouldn’t have to be this stressed on his birthday, but then again, he shouldn’t have made a stupid dance recital on Christmas Eve.

He’s shouting all over for the six year olds. Maya keeps patting her face with powder, Jaycee has her hands in her mouth and Meisha has a pair of adult scissors by her hair—  _fuck!_  Louis snatches them from her hands and picks up the little girl, scolding her before putting her down. He loses her again behind one of the princess themed screens. Hayley runs around in circles around Louis, trodding on his feet with her little jazz shoes. Soon, there’s Nia who’s trying to clamber over Louis and earning his attention. Louis absolutely loses it.

"Alright!" He screams so loudly he’s sure the gathering audience outside could hear him, and all the children immediately shut their mouths and stare at their instructor. Louis breathes out, calming himself down and blinking at the children with a gentle smile. "Now, you three, you need to get your make-up done, and you four need to put on your jazz outfits. Your mummy’s and daddy’s are all out there, waiting for you to go on stage, and I swear to God, if this entire dance becomes a failure, I will—"

The children’s eyes are wide with fear and Louis pauses, his words choking in his throat. It’s not his fault stress brings out anger issues, and that anger issues bring out very… well… physical threats to innocent, six year old girls. Louis wonders how he even got this job, let alone why he wanted to keep it. 

"Off you all go!" Louis cheers high-pitched, and this time, the girls do what they’re asked. 

Ten minutes later, they’re all on stage being pushed around by stage managers. Louis is behind the audience, seeing the numbers are much less than last years. Maybe two or three seats missing. He knew there’s be one that’s empty this year. He frowns and waits for the curtain to rise and for their choreographed music to play. They’ve been doing this routine for months, and Louis knows he’ll probably strangle someone if it’s not perfect. 

The curtain rises and twelve little girls stand on the stage before him and the audience. They’re all nervous, Louis can tell. It’s his first dozen that have never been taught beforehand. Louis plans to never step forward and take that role again.  _All About That Bass_  starts playing and the children begin to dance with forced grins on their mouths and eyes searching for familiar faces in a sea of parents. 

Louis nods every time a step is done right. Three steps to the left, cha cha, one step forward and arms up before marching in a circle and hips moving from side to side, three steps back and a twist to the left—  _fucking hell_ , _Amber!_  A twist to the right, of course she’d fucking do it. Louis silently screams and clenches his fists. He probably going to have a stroke at 28. Great.

The dance ends and Louis just wants to get to the green room and kick a few kids. Instead, he avoids trying to earn a lawsuit and hugs the dozen, saying how well they danced. In fact, Louis stopped paying attention when Amber fucked up for the third time. That was within the first twenty seconds of the song. 

He doesn’t stay for presentations. He has enough to worry about than winning the Principal’s award for best instructor. He makes his kids run the dance room in Suicide and keeps them in an extra ten for mucking up a routine. He knows he’s not going to win it. Louis has plenty to do at home. He hasn’t decorated the house yet, and it’s fucking Christmas Eve. The house is empty without glittery lights or the stockings by the fire. It’s been emptier since the accident. 

Arriving home is a bit of a downer. It’s all dark, despite the white blanket of snow over the town. Louis unlocks and shoulders the door open before turning on the light to the living room where a Christmas tree stands with little underneath it. He lights the fire with no struggle and sits by it for a few minutes before making tea for himself. He drags out a box of decorations from the basement and brings it to the living room and sets out a couple of lights around the windows. He drinks his tea every so often, and sighs unnecessarily. 

The house is warm, the place looks warmer, but Louis just feels cold. He’s wearing a sweater and the skinniest of jeans which hug all the warmth in. But he needs a mum’s knitted sweater around his heart. It’s cold. Freezing. Trapped in an ice-cage. Decorating the house just made things feel worse. He’s hanging the tinsel around the place, a few extra pieces on the Christmas tree with baubles over taking the colour of the synthetic leaves. He sighs again and frowns harder. He sits and sips tea. He stands and hangs up more lights, switches them on, then sits again. 

It’s difficult. Louis doesn’t know why it’s so difficult. It’s hanging up Christmassy things for God’s sake. This is meant to be a happy time. It’s Louis’ birthday. Louis should be drinking wine with Harry. But where the fuck is Harry. Louis should be opening a gift, a lovely birthday gift from Harry, or his family. But where the fuck is his family. Louis should be reminiscing on past Christmas memories and should be looking forward to the New Year’s party at Niall’s, but where the fuck is everyone.

Where the fuck is happiness.

A fading fire in front of him still manages to keep the place warm and Louis could feel it crisp up his skin, but still, he’s cold. He purses his lips together and tries to drink at his tea. But it’s empty, and has been for the past half an hour, but he tries to drink it like a fucking idiot. He is a fucking idiot. Everyone else thinks he is too. A dumb witted fuck like him deserves the Grinch for his birthday and Christmas. Things are difficult. Louis’ life is difficult.

Where the fuck is Harry.

A small squeak of hinges brings Louis’ attention and the first thing he does is stand and look at the archway. Harry walks through with two bags of shopping and a red nose. He looks as cold and frosted as Louis. Louis blinks and smiles and Harry grins back, holding the shopping above his eyes. 

"So maybe waiting until the night before Christmas to go food shopping isn’t the best deal," Harry laughs, stepping forward and dropping the shopping to the ground. He paces towards Louis, brushing the snow from his shoulders. They stand close, their toes touching. Louis still feels cold. "I went to four different Tesco’s. There’s literally nothing."

"I did warn you."

"Yeah, but someone ate all the butter cookies yesterday and blamed them on Niall." Harry waggles his eyebrows at Louis as he closes in and presses a soft kiss to his nose. "Don’t worry, sweets. I got turkey and some type of homebranded canned vegies for a pot soup. Just the two of us for a lovely dinner tomorrow, hm? Christmas would never feel better."

Louis smiles softly and nods to his husband. “Just the two of us.”

Harry looks around and notices the lights and the decorations box which still had a few bits and pieces inside. “I can’t believe you started decorating without me.”

"I was bored," Louis says bluntly. "Tonight’s been boring. The dance recital was shit. Remind me never to have a kid with you."

Harry chuckles. “You’re full of shit. You’ve always wanted a kid,” he reminds. “How did the dance go? Tell me about it. Sorry I couldn’t be there. I had a little—”

"I know," Louis says sharply, cutting Harry off. "It was shit, like I said. The girls kept stuffing up, and Amber just ruined the perfectly good choreography. They’re a nuisance. They just… they’re imbeciles, Harry! I’ve been in his job for seven years and I don’t understand how the fuck they can fuck things up after three months of learning the same thing, twice a week!"

Harry softens his eyes and smiles dumbfoundedly at Louis. “You know, they’re _six_ , Louis.”

"I know they’re six! But when I was six I knew how to count to 100 and spell out difficulty while I did ballet. It’s not that fucking hard to do a little jazz with five repeated steps that a fucking toddler could—" Harry swoops him and kisses him hard, leaving Louis shocked and feeling  _oh_  so warm. He molds into him, holding Harry close and letting his feet lift onto his tiptoes. Harry pulls back and grins, letting Louis catch a hasty breath and finish his sentence. “Do.”

Harry grins and pulls at Louis’ hip. “Babe, you stressing out is going to give you wrinkles,” Harry whispers to him. “It’s just the start of the dance season, Lou. If I was there, I would have kissed you until you didn’t feel angry anymore. It’s only one dance.”

Louis breathes out lowly and says, “I wish you were there.”

Harry nods and whispers, “me too.” He brings Louis close again and kisses between his eyebrows, rubbing his hand over his back to soothe him. “Now, let’s get these decorations up before we have a little cuppa in bed. Wanna wake up for Christmas bright and early, hm?”

Louis agrees with a light hum, leading Harry to the box of decorations and they help each other, kissing every few seconds and laughing into each other’s mouths. Louis feels warm. He’s so warm like this. They’re flailing tinsel everywhere and manage to knock a bit of the tree to remove half of the decorations on it. They put everything back, piece by piece, like their four year marriage. They look at their reflection in the baubles, and Louis only recognizes himself. But he doesn’t care. Harry’s pulling him back and raising mistletoe above them, bringing Louis in for a gentle kiss. 

They fill the stocking with treats Harry bought from Tesco and sit by the fire Harry kept alight with extra wood. He’s warmer when they’re upstairs, falling into bed together and throwing the covers over themselves. Louis cuddles his husband in and kisses each one of his fingers. Harry relaxes against him, a soft kiss being pressed on Louis’ collar bone. Louis lays and stares at the ceiling for a bit, and Harry notices how quiet Louis has been. He’s been very quiet since the accident.

"Babe," Harry calls, and Louis hums in short response. "Tell me what’s the matter."

He’s always so upfront, and Louis has always loved that about him. He loved Harry for so long and he just feels like one day he’s just going to leave. He’s so afraid he’s going to leave and leave Louis cold. When they started dating, Louis thought Harry was going to leave for the jock of the high-school football team, but he didn’t. When they became exclusive, Louis thought Harry was going to leave for the toned, more fit man next door in the dance hall, teaching advanced pole dancing, but he didn’t. When they exchanged vows, Louis thought Harry was going to leave for the priest. Even now, Louis thinks Harry’s going to leave. Not for anyone. But he’ll just leave.

"I’m scared that you’re going to leave," Louis says quietly. Like a mouse. He squeaks when Harry brings him in closer and kisses his collar bones again. "You’re going to leave me, I know it. You’re just going to see a better path and leave me—"

"I told you, Louis," Harry cuts in front. "I’m never going to leave you."

But no one knows about this. Louis hasn’t told anyone about this since the accident. He’s still got Harry, and probably always will. Just no one knows how much Louis doesn’t want Harry to leave and he knows that if he ever told anyone, his mum, his friends, his sisters, anyone, they’ll force Harry to leave.

"I vowed I’d never leave you on the 22nd of February, 2014, Louis," Harry says. "I’d never ever leave you. I promised to stay with you, forever. No one can make me leave. Even if you stopped loving me, I’d never leave. I will always love you, no matter what."

Louis smiles and dips his head to nuzzle his nose into Harry’s hair. He loves him so, so much. Even after the accident. He just can’t believe he found someone so wonderful, so beautiful, so amazing. He’s so, so lucky. Then again, he’s always been lucky. Even with the accident.

He falls asleep with Harry under his arm. It’s like this almost every night. He’s never left cold, however. He knows Harry’s there even when he isn’t. But it’s a problem when he wakes in the morning. Every morning. Harry isn’t there by his side in the mornings. He never is. He’s always in the kitchen, well, usually. Louis should have been used to it by now. Everyone expected him to be.

He’s ambling down the stairs Christmas morning with a glower on his face. Harry isn’t in the kitchen, but he never quite seemed to forget that. He even calls Harry’s name sometimes, and those moments are the most awkward when company’s over. He manages to get to the living room, seeing the plenty of decorations and the cold ashes from the fire the night before. He looks out the window, still a blank white which is more morbid than ever. 

He’s alone Christmas morning, he knows this. He sits in his chair and doesn’t bother with a fire, or bother opening his Christmas present to himself. He’s wondering if his family back in Donny is opening his shitscram presents. He blinks to the tree. It does look lovely. Maybe the outside is better. Louis doesn’t move. He doesn’t deserve happiness. He doesn’t deserve anyone. 

One more sigh and he manages to look up. It’s a thing he’s not really used to. There used to be nothing on show above the fireplace. He avoids looking up there. The urn is nothing he wants to remind himself of. He knows Harry hates it when he looks at it. It’s the worst shade of blue and white and his mother got it for him after the funeral to hold Harry’s ashes. It looks like the clear sky and the blanket of snow Harry killed himself in last Christmas Eve. But it’s contained in a ceramic tube of death, torture, but still had love inside it. 

He’s always been lucky, Louis knows. It should have been him and not Harry. Harry should have swerved to the right instead of left. Louis shouldn’t have tried to show him his new playlist on his phone. Harry shouldn’t have looked away. Harry shouldn’t have died after their dinner. Harry shouldn’t have died on Christmas Eve. Harry shouldn’t have died on Louis’ birthday. Harry shouldn’t have died.

He loves Harry so much and every bit of him is warming. Every single bit of him. It’s been a year, but he’s never managed to forget. He doesn’t want to tell anyone he can still see Harry, he can still talk to him, he can still replay every little bit of memory before the accident, and still relive memories with a figment of his imagination. He can’t forget about his husband, why should he? He’s the one that fucking killed him, and he knows this. Louis fucking knows he doesn’t deserve to be here. Louis knows he doesn’t deseve to be happy. Not without Harry. He promised to make him happy for forever on their wedding day. And Harry was frowning when they covered the thin white sheet over his attacked body. 

Louis should have died. Not Harry. Everyone hates him for it. If Louis didn’t fucking take his attention away, Harry would have lived. If Harry swerved right, Harry would have lived. Everyone hates Louis. Christmas hates Louis. Louis hates Louis.

Harry loves Louis.

Louis cries alone on Christmas day, and no one deserves to cry on Christmas day. Especially over their dead husband. No one deserves to not be happy on Christmas day.

No one, but Louis.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my other works. (they're like 4032843028 times longer than this.)
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](since-he-was-eighteen.tumblr.com)


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